Dolah

When I was about seven, my dad's grandma Dolah gave me a beautiful, soft, fluffy stuffed white dog. I named her Dolah in honor of my great-grandma. People, I love this dog. She has been with me through thick and thin. She has gone everywhere with me. OK - not everywhere, but if I went somewhere for more than a week, Dolah went too.

Very early on in our time together, I wanted Dolah to have bright, shiny eyes. I pulled out some clear nail polish and went to work. Unfortunately the nail polish made the paint on her eyes smear. I compounded the problem by trying to smush the paint back into place and so poor Dolah has lived with cataracts most of her life.

Shortly after John and I got together, we got a dog and named her Max. (Max is no longer with us.) One day I got up to go to work and found Max had brutally attacked Dolah. She had a hole in her throat. Her ear was ripped open. The back side of her head had a huge gouge in it. Her black pom-pom ball nose was missing. Her stuffing was EVERYEWHERE. I was hysterical. (I'm not joking. You can ask my husband: I was hysterical.) I was working at Wal*Mart at the time and called in sick so I could stay home to perform surgery on my beloved Dolah. Then I cuddled her for a good long while until I could calm down.

For the last few years, Dolah has lived on the top shelf in my closet. Recently, Wyatt has started wanting to cuddle something soft at bedtime. He has a little stuffed white dog of his own - Bolt. I thought I would let him see my Dolah. He fell in love and cuddled her right up, so I let him hang out with her. Then one day I found a rather large hole in her neck - and stuffing all over the hall, stairs and the boys' room. So here I am, performing surgery on my dear friend again. Wy was sad that I closed up this little trachiotomy opening. He said "A hole was for my finger!" I think this means he liked sticking his finger down her throat...



I know it's not the News from Lake WoeBeGone but it's my news and I'm sticking to it.
Love from Owenland Park.